Date: Tue, 22 Jun 2004 19:09:26 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle
Subject: Seaward Plantation chapter twelve
This story contains graphic but completely fictional
depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage
boys and/or girls. If this offends you, if it is illegal
for you to read or download this, or if you are under 18,
please go away.
Seaward Plantation
Chapter twelve
Seaward Plantation was a sight for Mark Appleby's sore eyes
as the Hesperus began the approach to her small harbor and
pier. He reached over and squeezed the dark brown hand of
Troy--not for the first time on that trip--and smiled at
him, then at Troy's younger brother Hector. Their honest
brown faces broke into big, glad grins in return--and not
for the first time on that trip, either! Although he had
only been gone for two days, it was a joyful reunion among
the three. Seaward was such a haven from a cruel world that
its people, white and black, were coming to feel that
absences from it were unnatural, a sort of perilous voyage.
Freeing his hand to negotiate the tricky approach to the
pier, Troy spoke.
"Master, I forgot to tell you.... Cassius and Portia have
something to show you. They said they would be waiting for
you at the pier."
Appleby was looking forward to seeing the newest residents
of Seaward again anyway, but the mystery added to his
anticipation. The Hesperus took in canvas and glided gently
to a stop at the pier. The mulatto brother and sister were
indeed there, and Cassius sprang forward to help secure the
boat to the wooden uprights. Portia watched from a few feet
away, smiling a big welcome, with something behind her back.
"Welcome back, Master!" said Cassius--and then rushed
forward and hugged Appleby tightly, affectionately. Appleby
returned the embrace and kissed the light brown slave on his
forehead. "Master," said Cassius, "we have something--
Portia and I have something--to show you!" Troy and Hector,
securing the boat and unloading their master's bags, smiled
conspiratorially.
"So I hear, Cassius," Appleby said, and smiled at Portia,
"What can it be?"
Cassius assumed a stance like an opera singer on the stage,
and to Appleby's astonishment began to sing. "ABCDEFG,
HIJKLMNOP," he warbled in his mid-adolescent voice. The
sixteen year old sang through to the end of the alphabet,
with feeling and perfect diction, then bowed low with a
flourish of his arm. Appleby burst into laughter and
applauded loudly, for there had clearly been progress in
rectifying the boy's illiteracy while he had been gone.
Then Portia approached, beaming, and sidling up next to
Appleby she pulled from behind her back, with great ceremony-
-a primer! Opening it, glancing repeatedly up at Appleby,
she began to read slowly: "Oh, see Nat run. Run, Nat,
run!" Haltingly but with no errors, she went on for two
pages before snapping the book shut and looking up at
Appleby in triumph.
"Wonderful, Portia, wonderful," he said, "How very proud I
am of you, and what wonderful progress the two of you have
made in only two days!" Affectionately, he put his arm
around the seventeen year old slave girl and hugged her.
Pulled close to him, she put one of her arms around the
white man's waist and hugged back. For a moment the two of
them stood there in a friendly embrace--and then Appleby
began to realize that for his part, at least, it was
beginning to feel like something more than friendship, for
he felt an unmistakable stirring in his groin.
"Troy taught me, master," said Cassius. "And Hector taught
me," said Portia, looking at the black boy. Hector smiled
back at her and hung his head for a moment in shyness.
"Well, shall we walk up to the house?" proposed Appleby, and
they all agreed. Troy grabbed one of Appleby's bags while
Cassius and Hector vied to carry the other one. The whole
party set off--but Portia and Appleby kept arms around each
other in a light embrace. Did either one try to let go?
No, and Appleby wondered what it meant, wondered what his
own intentions were--especially when Hector, having lost the
bag-carrying privileges to Cassius, came up on Appleby's
other side and put his arm around his master as well,
interlocking with Portia's arm, the three of them walking
together up the lawn toward the house.
As they approached the house, the rest of the people of
Seaward came out from barn or cabin to greet Appleby. Pan
and Bacchus danced around him with glee, sandwiching him
with hard-groined hugs; did these twins ever lose their
erections, the white man wondered. On the verandah the boys
seized their master's bags from Troy and Cassius and took
them up for unpacking. Portia joined Mama Cass and Mama
Juno to prepare a community meal for lunch, while Priam,
Cassius, and Troy went to attend last minute chores in the
hay barn. Athena waved and smiled as she passed by below
the verandah, baby Apple in her arm, on her way to help in
the kitchen.
Only Hector remained with Appleby. "Master, may I talk to
you for a minute?" he asked.
"Certainly, Hector, shall we sit right here?" Appleby
responded, settling into a rocking chair. Hector took
another one next to it. He looked searchingly at his
master, then hung his head and grinned, then looked back
again at Appleby.
"I... um... I wondered.... um..."
Placing his hand over the dark brown forearm of the boy,
Appleby smiled and said, "Hector, you may say anything to
me, you may ask me anything. Since when are you shy with
me, after all we have done together?" Hector hung his head
again and grinned, then seemed to summon up both resolve and
language.
"Master... did you know that... well, do you like Portia?"
Appleby's heart skipped a beat.
"Well... yes, of course I like her, Hector."
"No, master, I mean, do you really like her? You know," he
said, smiling and looking down again, then back, "she likes
you. She told me. I mean she really.... well, you know
what I mean, master."
A flood of confusing feelings washed over Appleby, and they
were confusing not the least because he did not know his own
mind in the matter. Words began to tumble out of him in
disconnected phrases.
"Hector, I've never touched her, you have nothing to fear...
I mean, she is very pretty, I like her very much, I do.... I
would never hurt YOU, Hector, you know that, if you want
her, I know she is yours, then.... I have wondered some
times if she..... but Hector, I'm not sure of my own
feelings..... but--" and on and on in that vein. All the
while Hector looked at his master in mounting concern and
wonder. Finally, the boy could stand it no longer.
"Master, master, please," he said, grasping the man's
shoulder. "You mustn't, master. You mustn't bring that
spirit here." Love and admonition were balanced in the
serious tone the boy took. Appleby was brought up short.
"What... what spirit, Hector? Tell me what it is I mustn't
do, please."
Hector rose and stood next to his master sitting in the
rocker and hugged his head fiercely, then knelt in front of
him and took the man's white hands in both of his brown
ones, laid on his master's knee. Love was now mixed with
urgency as he spoke gently but forcefully to Appleby.
"Do you own me, master?" he asked.
"Certainly not, Hector, not in any sense. You know that.
Those papers...."
"Master, nobody owns anybody at Seaward. Papers?! You
don't even own Cassius and Portia, 'though you might think
you do. But see--I don't own Portia, either." He smiled at
Appleby, who began nodding with growing understanding. "We
share here, master; we share ourselves and we share each
other. If Portia loves somebody other than me it just makes
more love to go around. And how could I mind if the person
she is loving is you.... and when I love you, too, master?"
He paused for breath.
"Remember how Troy shared Athena with me? but see, Athena
shared Troy with me, too. It was what I needed. It's what
we do here, master. It's the best way. We share."
Appleby heaved a deep sigh of relief; the boy's words came
to him as truths he already knew but had hidden from
himself. He leaned forward and put one hand on the side of
the boy's face, the other around the back of his head
against his crinkly hair, and kissed him slowly on the lips,
then whispered "thank you" into the boy's ear. Then he
pulled back, another concern on his face.
"But Hector..... I don't know who I am. I had never.... I
had never even been with a man before coming to Seaward.
Just a couple of women. But now, Troy, and you, and... I
think I found out that that is truly what I want, who I
am.... but I also really do feel something for Portia. Oh,
God! and for Athena and Helen," he said, bowing over with
his hands on his face, all his guilt and conflict rushing
out.
"It's alright, master, it's alright," said Hector, reaching
up rubbing his master's shoulders and neck, still kneeling
before him.
"But I don't know who I am, Hector. Am I to be with women?
am I to be with men?"
Hector looked in wonder at the troubled face of the white
man, who was so caught up in webs of his own making.
Shaking his head to clear it of those webs, he went right to
the point, which was so simple after all.
"Be with the one you're with, master. Do you have to
decide? If you feel like it, alright, if you don't, that's
alright. Why say you are this thing forever, when you might
want to be that other thing the next day?" The clarity of
the simple truth flashed on Appleby like lightning. He
began nodding, slowly and then more vigorously. What chains
from his upbringing had bound him? Those were chains that
had been rusting away in the free salt air of Seaward, and
would now rust and fall off entirely if he let them.
"You see how we are here, master. Some of us are almost all
one way.... although even Pan and Bacchus have had their
times with Helen!" he said, confirming a suspicion that
Appleby had held since soon after coming to Seaward. "Papa
is nearly all the other way, although I think," and here he
looked pointedly at the white man and smiled, "I think he
has tried something different recently." Appleby smiled
back and nodded. "Some of us are in the middle, but we go
as the wind blows. Who can say who you will want tonight,
or in an hour, master? Maybe even Portia!" he said,
grinning hugely. "Maybe Mama Juno!" Now, THAT was going
too far, but the levity snapped the last link of Appleby's
bondage. Man and boy roared with laughter at the thought of
his coupling with dear Mama Juno's ample, maternal flesh.
Appleby nearly floated out of his chair, pulling the boy to
his feet as well, and hugged him fiercely, grateful for the
clarity that the boy's simple truths had brought him. From
within came the sounds of lunch arriving from the kitchen
and of people gathering. Nodding happily at the boy,
Appleby embraced him once more and they went inside. Little
did he know how prophetic Hector's comments would be, in
more ways than one and sooner than he thought.
A pleasant lunch was followed by everyone dispersing to work
at various tasks. Storm clouds began gathering in the
middle afternoon, and the wind picked up. As the afternoon
wore on, the weather became increasingly threatening.
Squalls blew quickly over the island, and it was dark by
dinner time. Everyone made their way to their own dwellings
to wait out what promised to be a major storm.
Cassius, Pan, Bacchus, and Appleby shared a quiet, simple
dinner by lamplight, then settled in to chores or work in
the library. The evening wore on and the wind began rushing
over the house as if a giant hand was rubbing it. The twins
decided that they would take a bath, and soon their natural
high spirits, nakedness, and the presence of a tub led to
the sound of whoops, laughter, and splashing from the bath
room. Appleby and Cassius, meanwhile, worked in the
library; Appleby was continuing the lessons in reading and
writing already begun in his brief absence, and the two were
occupied with pencil, paper, and primers.
"Now, Cassius, you see how the letter 'O' is pronounced in
different ways when--" Appleby stopped, a wet towel suddenly
landing across his head and obscuring his vision. Removing
it, he heard a peal of giggles emerge from the hallway
outside the library. Deciding to ignore it, he pressed
ahead, but then a brush bounced of off Cassius's shoulders,
bringing a soft cry of protest to his lips. Appleby glared
in the direction of the hallway. "Stop, please, we are
concentrating!" There were more giggles.
Man and boy returned to their studies and for a minute there
was peace. Then from one direction inside the library came
a small hunk of soap that bounced painfully off of Appleby's
head, while from another direction inside the room came
another piece of soap that landed on the paper on which
Cassius was painstakingly writing out simple words, covering
the paper with a streak of lather and quite ruining the
boy's efforts. Squeals and giggles now erupted from inside
the room, and turning around in their chairs Appleby and
Cassius saw both twins, freshly scrubbed and as naked as the
day they were born, peeking out from behind the reading
chairs. It appeared as if sweet reason would be of no
avail. Appleby and Cassius put their heads together and
whispered for a moment, then each of them bolted out of
their own chairs and in the direction of the boys' makeshift
forts. Bacchus slipped out of their way, but Appleby and
Cassius converged on Pan, trapping him. Appleby grabbed him
around the arms and chest while Cassius held on to his legs.
Securing the boy tightly, who was by now laughing
hilariously and wriggling like an eel, the two captors
carried him up the stairs quickly and into Appleby's
bedroom.
"The wardrobe, for a moment!" cried Appleby. Swerving by
that furniture, he reached in and grabbed a handful of silk
cravats that were hanging on a bar. They threw Pan,
hysterical with laughter, on the bed face down. Throwing
their bodies on top of the thirteen year old to restrain
him, Appleby tied both the boy's hands together with one end
of a cravat, then pulling the boy's arms and hands together
straight up over his head he tied the other end of the
cravat tight to the headboard of the bed. Meanwhile,
Cassius, sitting on the boy's legs, tight his feet together
with another cravat and, pulling them down toward the end of
the bed, tight the cravat to the footboard. Surveying their
handiwork, they saw the caramel brown boy tied up like a pig
on a spit, still giggling uncontrollably, his firm, tight
bottom rising invitingly in the air.
Returning to the ground floor, Appleby and Cassius found
Bacchus somewhat harder to discover since the boy had
hidden, but his giggles gave him away and he was pulled out
from under the dining room table. His fate was the same,
and soon two slim brown boys were laid out and tied down,
butts up, on Appleby's bed. The white man and mulatto boy
gave a moment's thought as to what to do, then by mutual
consent they undressed themselves. Their penises, ruddy
pink and medium brown, were already beginning to rise in
anticipation.
Appleby began the festivities. "Boys, you have been very
naughty to interrupt our work and to spoil Cassius's
lesson," he said, "and for that you get this." Standing on
the side of the bed nearest Bacchus, he raised his arm and
then brought his hand down on the bare butt, palm open,
making a tremendous smack. Bacchus gasped, but hardly
giggled any the less. Cassius followed his master's
example, winding up his arm even farther and swatting Pan's
upraised bottom with a crack. Pan shrieked, but directly
resumed laughing.
"Are you sorry, now?" asked Appleby. "No!" chorused the
twins, laughing. "Well, then," said the white man, and he
and Cassius fell to work. Smack! Smack! they went in turns.
Soon the twins were moaning in pain but still laughing in
between their cries. As moans and cries of "Ow!" and
"Don't!" and "Not so hard!" began to predominate, their
medium brown butts gradually darkened, bottom-blushes
spreading reddish brown over the firm hills of flesh.
Once again the captive boys were asked if they were sorry,
and could hardly answer so occupied were they with both soft
moans of pain but also persistent laughter. Appleby and
Cassius looked at each other; the white man nodded toward
the lubricant on the table by Cassius's side of the bed.
The mulatto slave helped himself to a big gob of it and
passed it to his master. Man and boy inserted some of it in
the upraised, winking anuses of the two brown boys on the
bed, but not too much--this was not meant to be comfortable.
The rest they smeared over their own rampant cocks.
Climbing up onto the bed, with coordinated timing they each
put their penises against the anus of the boy beneath them,
and pushed in with one long movement.
Now, that really did silence the giggles of the thirteen
year olds, who gasped and protested. Unheeding, Appleby and
Cassius now began to take out their frustrations on the
boys, pounding their asses with long, forceful volleys,
swinging their hips while they held their torsos up off of
the boys, who writhed inches below them. Faster and more
forcefully the man and his mulatto slave swung their hips
back and forth. Pan and Bacchus were now getting into the
rhythm of the coupling and were thrusting their bottoms back
toward their lovers as well as they could. Appleby and
Cassius, shoulder to shoulder, looked back and forth from
each other to the bound boys beneath them, and when they
came it was at the same time, both roaring from deep in
their chests and slamming forward to press their groins into
the brown bottoms beneath them with all their might. They
held that position until they stopped quivering, then
slumped forward onto the sweating boys below.
In a moment, Appleby felt able to whisper, "Sorry yet?"
Another giggle escaped from Bacchus beneath him by way of
answer, echoed by Pan who was lying side by side to him,
still impaled on the rigid cock of Cassius. Appleby looked
at Cassius, lying on the boy next to him, and sighed. "Plan
three," he said.
The man and mulatto boy pulled out of the assholes below
them and each stood by their side of the bed. They rolled
the thirteen year old boys over, an easy accomplishment that
merely twisted the cravats tying them hand and foot. The
boys' caramel brown, muscled abdomens were slick with their
own precum, their dark brown dicks now stuck straight out in
the air, and their giggles had returned in full force as
they anticipated a sexual adventure of their own. But they
did not conceive of what Appleby and Cassius had in mind.
Each took up another cravat and tied it as a gag around the
boys' mouths, not so tight as to be uncomfortable but tight
enough to discourage articulate speech. "Mmmph?" said Pan,
echoed by Bacchus's "Wowrrrr."
Appleby and Cassius now lubricated each thirteen year old,
stiff cock and lubricated their own assholes liberally, then
together they mounted the boys facing their feet, their
muscular backs toward the boys' faces. The rigid cocks of
the captive twins slid right up the rectums of the white man
and mulatto boy. Pan and Bacchus let out gagged squeals in
anticipation. What happened next was certainly not
anticipated, though. Appleby calmly reached over to the
side of the bed where he picked up the primer he had placed
there before. Holding it over by Cassius, who was shoulder
to shoulder with him, he began.
"Now, Cassius, as I was saying, 'O' can be pronounced in
different ways. See, in this sentence..." The horrible
truth began to dawn on the twins. Their master and the new
slave boy were simply going to sit on their rigid penises--
perfectly still and unmoving. Encased in the warm, moist
love tunnels, the organs remained erect and throbbing. But
their captors were not going to move a muscle to bring the
twins to orgasm, and neither boy was in a position to move
his own hips up and down for that purpose. Soon squeals and
moans of frustration began arising. Each of the twins shook
and vibrated their loins as they could, they thrashed left
and right as much as possible, but it was useless.
Now Appleby and Cassius were the ones to begin laughing and
snorting. Soon, neither one could maintain the pretense of
having a reading lesson. Nodding agreement, each one
pivoted around on the rigid cock that impaled them to face
the twins, still kneeling calf by calf astride each boy.
Leaning forward but not losing their position, they untied
the silken gags from between each boy's full lips. "NOW...
are you sorry?" said Appleby.
What pain could not achieve, the withholding of sexual
ecstasy could. "Yes, master.... oh, yes sir!" came two
replies, followed by solemn assurances, delivered pantingly,
that they would not misbehave again. At that, the white man
and mulatto boy began to rise and down on the dark brown
dicks inside of them, massaging bellies and chests, tweaking
nipples with their hands. Given some freedom of movement,
each boy swung into the motion with vigor, clutching and
kneading the strong thigh muscles of the man or boy above
them. It did not take long before Pan and Bacchus cried
out, torsos twisting up, hips pushing up into the rectums
above them, and discharged their semen in long eruptions.
Appleby and Cassius slowed their rhythms gradually until
each boy collapsed, spent. Then the man and older boy
leaned forward on top of the twin beneath them, covering
them with their bodies, kissing them lightly until normal
breathing returned.
As the sexual storm passed it became clear that the storm
outside was increasing. The four rose from the bed and,
arms around each other, went back downstairs to wash in the
bath room. Thunder and lightning was now all around the
house, it seemed, and the wind was really quite strong.
Appleby was glad for the stout construction of all the
buildings at Seaward. Going back upstairs, they decided
that to give each other room, and needing rest, Appleby and
Pan would sleep in one bed, Cassius and Bacchus in the
other. With goodnight kisses, the couples went off to
separate bedrooms to pile in together in sleep.
Appleby awoke in the middle of the night to tremendous
thunder. But there, behind the thunder.... was there
another kind of sound, similar to it? There it was again,
now nearly covered by the howling of the wind. Rising, he
looked out the window, but could see little through the
slashing rain against the pane. Then he heard a door to the
house downstairs open, the louder rushing of wind, and then
the door closed. Quick footsteps up the stairs, then Troy
burst into his room, covered up tight in a waterproof cloak.
"Master.... it's a ship, master! Come quick.... lanterns,
and the spyglass from the library, sir!" Rousing the three
boys, Appleby dressed quickly and all four of them hurried
after Troy downstairs. Donning the new protective gear
Appleby had purchased for everyone, and retrieving the
telescope Troy had requested, they followed Troy outside
into the wind. There they fell into step behind Priam and
Hector, who were leading the way, fighting the gale force
winds as they battled their way to the cemetery, the highest
spot on the island. Sheets of rain lashed down, and Appleby
was afraid they would be soaked regardless of the good
clothing and boots they wore. All the while, a sound that
was thunder but not thunder sounded periodically amidst the
actual storm.
Reaching the lookout point that was the cemetery with some
difficulty, a fearful scene was revealed. The lightning was
now almost constant, and looking to the east, out into the
Atlantic, they saw a merchant ship that had evidently run
aground on the rocks and shoals that lay a mile or so beyond
the island as a sort of natural fence. It had three masts
with now only shreds of sails attached, and a smokestack in
the middle, but even as the people from Seaward watched, one
of the masts snapped off and literally flew away in the
storm. Then a flash erupted from the side of the ship and
Appleby knew what was making that strange noise like
thunder: the ship was firing a cannon in distress, to call
for any help that could be rendered.
But no help could come; it would have been suicide even to
attempt taking the Hesperus out in this storm. The ship sat
at an odd angle, evidently hooked onto a reef or mighty
boulder below the water line. Smoke streamed out of the
smokestack, but to no avail; she was a stern-wheeler, but it
could be plainly seen that the storm had smashed her
paddles. A few pieces of board flapped and circled crazily
at the rear of the ship. Suddenly a quick flash of white
steam cloud emerged from the middle of the ship. The storm
blew it away in an instant, but then there was a tremendous
explosion. Evidently sea water had reached the red hot
boilers. The wind quickly cleared the smoke and steam to
reveal a horrible sight: only one half of the ship
remained, and it quickly tipped at a forty-five degree angle
and was gone. Dark objects floated here and there on the
boiling water, and that was all that remained.
"Quick, to the shore!" shouted Troy, "maybe somebody will
make it ashore!" By the quickest path the three men and
four boys fought the storm down to the beach. Breaking into
teams, they spread out north and south, and for an hour
patrolled the beach. Appleby, working with Hector and the
twins, was returning from the southern extremity of the
beach when he saw it just off shore: a raft, or really just
a part of the hull of the ship, tossed about by the towering
waves. And on it there hung the figure of a person.
Sending the twins to the north to fetch the rest of the
party, Appleby and Hector calculated where the shipwrecked
sailor was most likely to make shore. His battered bit of
wooden hull was flung ashore by a mighty wave about where
they calculated, but as they ran up to it they could see
nobody--the piece of wreckage was washed bare. Another wave
came crashing in and, as it receded, they saw the figure of
a man lying on the beach, tossed down by the wave like
driftwood. They ran to it and, each grabbing an arm, hauled
the body up the beach and out of the way of the next wave,
which pursued them like a fury. Finding the shelter of
three trees that were clumped together, they put the man
down on his back.
Appleby quickly checked; it was hard to tell in the storm,
but he seemed not to be breathing. Flipping him onto his
side and coming around behind him, Appleby reached around
and squeezed hard just below the rib cage, then squeezed
again. It worked. The man jerked frantically, rolled over
onto his hands and knees, and vomited violently onto the
sand. Gasping for breath and desperately sick, he continued
retching and vomiting, spewing sea water out of his gut and
lungs, fighting for air. The sound of feet thudding on sand
could be heard even above the storm as the rest of the party
came up.
"Any more besides this one?" asked Appleby. Everyone shook
their heads in sorrow. "Well, we cannot wait and watch any
longer," he said, "we will be swept away ourselves if we
remain, and this one needs attention," and a huge wave that
came nearly up to their location confirmed his words. "Who
is fastest?" he asked, and Hector stepped forward
wordlessly. "Hector, run, rouse the women, tell them what
has happened and ask them to bring herbs and medicines to
the house; we will put him upstairs." Off the boy went with
remarkable speed, as the rest of the party locked arms to
lift the gasping, exhausted man and carry him off.
Making as much speed as they could without doing more harm
to the castaway, the party worked their way against the
storm back to the house. As they came up the verandah steps
the door was flung open, held by Hector. Mama Cass, Mama
Juno, and Portia stood with lanterns and healing supplies
within. Athena had apparently remained behind in her cabin
because of baby Apple. The castaway was carried in through
the pantry. Semi-conscious, eyes fluttering behind half-
closed lids, he seemed not to be in good shape at all.
Tsking and clucking, the women took command. They stripped
off his wet clothing, or what remained of it from the
lashing of the sea, and then led the way upstairs, pots and
vials of medicines and steaming herbal concoctions in hand.
Appleby, Cassius, and Priam carried the naked man up the
stairs and laid him gently on towels that had been spread in
one of the bedrooms. The boys followed closely, observing
every detail. Then the males were shooed from the room by
the women who closed the door and gathered around to
practice their healing arts.
In the hallway the exhausted men and boys stood around,
dripping, looking at each other in shock and wonder.
Bacchus, standing near Appleby, tugged at the sleeve of the
white man's rain gear. "Master.... master, why are his eyes
like that? His skin, his hair? Is he alright, master?"
Looking at the boy, Appleby suddenly realized with a shock
how isolating it must be to live in the paradise of Seaward;
how much wisdom that way of life imparted, but how much
basic experience must be lacking. Gently, he explained:
"Oh, yes--he is quite ill from the shipwreck. But as for
his appearance.... I expect that he is Chinese, or Japanese
perhaps. He is from Asia, I suppose. That is how people
look over there."
Looks of wonder passed all around, and "China," "Japan," and
"Asia" were repeated as if they were magical incantations.
The party began to move downstairs, stripping off their wet
gear and hanging it in the bath room and the pantry to dry.
By the time Appleby had put off his own wet things and come
back out, he discovered the entire male population of
Seaward in the library, some of them half naked from
shedding sodden clothing, pulling out atlases and books to
look up these magical places. For a moment it almost seemed
magical to Appleby, as well; how did someone from Asia end
up washing ashore off the coast of South Carolina?! But
then it occurred to him that sea lanes had always mixed the
dust of many lands throughout history, and this must be no
exception. Ships of many nations came and went through
Charleston. Ships' crews were often quite a mixed stew. At
any rate, they would know his story soon, when the new
arrival was well enough to talk... IF he were ever well
enough to talk.
Appleby, the twins, and Cassius went back upstairs to fetch
spare clothing for their friends; the door to the sickroom
remained shut, the sound of coughing and retching coming
from within. Sharing the dry garments all around, they bade
everyone good-night as the company went back out into the
storm, which seemed as if it had moderated somewhat in the
last half hour. The remaining four waited in the library,
reading, then heard the sounds of footsteps on the stairs.
Cass and Juno lumbered down them and into the hallway.
"He is mighty sick, master, but he will make it," said Juno.
"He must rest in bed and not be moved....or excited," she
said, wheeling upon her twin sons with this last statement
and shaking a finger at them, glaring ferociously. They
shrank back cowed, nodding dutifully. "Portia will sit with
him for a while," added Cass. The two women bundled up
against the wind and rain and walked back out into the
storm.
Appleby, Cassius, and the twins crept back upstairs quietly.
The sickroom door was ajar, so Appleby opened it a bit more
and peered in. Lamplight cast soft shadows in the room.
Portia was sitting in a chair by the invalid's bedside,
spooning between his lips a strong smelling herbal mixture.
Smiling at Appleby's appearance, she set the bowl down, felt
the man's forehead, then slipped out into the hallway.
"It is best that he be watched all the night, and likely
through the day tomorrow," she whispered. "I can sit with
him."
"I shall rest for just a few hours more and then come to
take your place, if you will show me what to do," said
Appleby. Portia nodded a hurried agreement. A soft groan
from within the room recalled her to her duty. "In a few
hours, then," she said to Appleby, and slipped back inside.
Appleby slept hard for a while, then awoke. The wind by now
was a soft rushing sound, but there was no longer any sound
of thunder, lightning, or rain. Looking out the window he
could actually see glimpses of the moon peeking out now and
then from behind the scudding clouds. Consulting his pocket
watch, he realized it was time to go relieve Portia.
Stepping quietly into the hallway, he opened the sickroom
door slowly, not wanting to startle anyone. The patient lay
on the bed all bundled up, sound asleep, snoring steadily.
A smell of herbs and medicine, sharp but not unpleasant,
hung in the air. Portia likewise was asleep, still sitting
in the chair, her chin on her hand. In the lamplight
Appleby was struck by her beauty, her rounded face enveloped
in a halo of frizzy brown hair, her light brown skin darker
in the shadows, her full lips slightly parted. The fabric
of her blouse stretched taught over her breasts, and rose
and fell lightly as she breathed. Her physical resemblance
to Cassius was remarkable, but of course she was also
different, possessing her own feminine beauty.
Not wishing to startle her, Appleby stepped up close to her
and whispered her name. Not getting any response, he
reached out and touched one shoulder lightly. Portia awoke
suddenly, starting up and rising in confusion--right into
Mark Appleby. His hand, which had been on her shoulder,
remained there, steadying her. Reflexively, she put a hand
on his side to regain her balance. She looked into
Appleby's eyes in confusion for a moment, then everything
fell into place. "Oh, master! I was asleep," she said, and
a smile crossed her lips. He smiled back. Their eyes
locked. It was like kicking a stone down a rock slope, for
it started the avalanche.
Appleby's other arm came up and he caressed her other
shoulder. She put her other hand on his waist. And they
came together in a passionate, long kiss. Truly, in that
first embrace it did not matter who was male or female,
black or white; there was an electric attraction powered by
both flesh and spirit that transcended such trivial
differences. Lips explored lips, tongues slid along tongues-
-they broke apart, breathing heavily, then came back
together again in a tight embrace, Appleby burying his face
in the sweet-smelling halo of Portia's soft, frizzy hair.
"Can... can he be left for a moment?"
Breaking away to look closely at her patient, Portia said
"Yes." Taking her hand, Appleby led the way to another
empty bedroom, thinking that at this rate he would need to
build an addition to his house before long. Slipping from
the silent hallway to the room, the white man and mulatto
slave girl embraced again with passion, then began pulling
clothes away from each other. Appleby took the lead,
lifting fabric, undoing buttons, encouraging the girl to
remove her garments. Soon she stood naked before him as she
had the first day he saw her. Only his shirt and
undergarments remained. Gently, smiling up at him, she
unbuttoned the shirt and let it slide to the floor.... then
tugged at his undergarment, which likewise dropped away.
His penis, already hard, sprang out. Gently, she grasped it
with one hand, while she placed her other hand on the white
man's broad, muscular chest, running fingers through the
sparse patch of hair in the center that ran in a line down
to his groin. Appleby cupped the seventeen year old slave
girl's firm, pert breasts, then lowered his head to suck the
dark copper nipple in a wider aureole. The moon,
intermittently uncovered by the passing clouds, lit their
tanned white and light brown bodies with moving patches of
yellow light.
Portia breathed heavily, sighing with passion. Appleby took
her hand and led her to the bed. Falling together side by
side, their hands began voyages of exploration, sliding and
probing, fondling and patting, ruffling and smoothing.
Rolling over on top of the girl, Appleby's rampant penis
leaked precum onto her rounded but muscular belly. He
kissed her lips again, her face, the side of her face and
neck, and then stuck his tongue in her ear, working it
around as the slave girl writhed in pleasure beneath him,
pulling him closer to her with her hands around his
shoulders.
He could wait no longer. Rising up a little on one hand, he
positioned his rampant, hard cock at the girl's vaginal
opening and moved the dickhead up and down a little in the
opening. It was already moist with the girls secretions,
and became more so with his precum. Then, gently and with
great tenderness, he entered her.
Portia cried out, but not in pain. Her eyes were wide, her
hands clasped around the white man's neck, her fingers
tugging at his long light brown hair. Her legs, bent at the
knees, were spread wide as the muscular white man began to
glide in and out of her. She began pushing up to meet his
thrusts, then to move her pelvis in a slow spiral that gave
Appleby exquisite pleasure. Faster and faster he pumped,
taking long, loping swings in and out of her. Feeling his
climax approaching, he lowered himself to her, his chest
riding on her sweat-slick firm breasts. He grasped her by
the shoulders and she clutched him around the back and the
two pulled into each other, holding each tightly as he came,
whispering her name over and over, pushing his groin into
hers as her hips moved slowly up and down. Then she
shuddered and clenched, in the throes of an orgasm herself,
moaning from deep inside her chest. Slower and slower they
moved, their breath ragged and labored, and then they
stopped and were still.
Each held the other; soft cooing sounds, gasps, and moans
filling the silence. Appleby rolled off of the slave girl
and, lying on his side, traced paths with his fingers
against her shiny, light brown skin. Portia caressed the
white man's face in her hands, running her fingers lightly
over his lips and nose and through his hair.
"Cassius has been very lucky," she said, naturally revealing
her knowledge of her brother's recent experiences at
Seaward. "So have I," she said.
"And so has Hector," chuckled Appleby, laying everything in
the open.
A fond look came into her eyes. "So has everyone at
Seaward, I think, master. I do not remember being seen by
you that first, terrible day at Mr. McGillicuddy's, but
Cassius told me everything. Thank you so much, master," she
said, pulling him to her again and embracing him tightly.
"But you have a patient, doctor!" she said, smiling.
Grinning back, Appleby rose and quietly dressed himself
again. By the time he was done, Portia lay asleep on the
sheets. He covered her gently with the sheets, then slipped
out the door and down the hall to take up his watch.